Yesterday was day 10 of my 30 day gratitude practice and the first day of this gratitude cycle when I found it difficult to feel gratitude. With the early advent of winter that came with snow and an arctic blast I lost my gratitude for a while and wallowed in wishing things were different.
Life is complex. Luminous and full of grace. Heartbreaking and painful. Gossamer as a dragonfly’s wing. Terrible as a devastating tornado.
Storms come to everyone’s life. No one is exempt from suffering. But every moment also contains seeds of beauty, peace, and joy.
At a recent meeting with a group of friends we talked about how we felt about gratitude. At this stage of my life I have been feeling much gratitude. I have much to be grateful for. So I was surprised when one of my friends said, “I have a hard time feeling gratitude.” I thought about it a bit and realized that it’s easy to feel gratitude when everything is going well in your life. It’s much more difficult when in the midst of the full catastrophe.
“Am I not a man? And is a man not stupid? I’m a man, so I married. Wife, children, house, everything. The full catastrophe.” —From the movie “Zorba the Greek”
Yesterday and into today, as we experienced our first snowstorm of the year, I got a deeper understanding of how difficult it was for me to find gratitude in my heart under challenging circumstances. Living in Minnesota, I am no stranger to winter, but I always hope it will begin later than it does. Winter is my least favorite time of year.
Everything seems harder in the winter time. Driving in the snow, clearing snow, slipping on ice, finding a parking place in snow-filled parking lots, bundling up in layers of clothing to keep warm, and even motivating myself to exercise when it is below zero outside. The past 2 winters have been exceptionally long, cold, and snowy. This year I hoped that we might have a mild winter. We might, but this early snowstorm doesn’t bode well for that possibility.
All day long, I kept internally whining about the snow and cold. Even though we were lucky that the storm track was much further north than expected so the snow accumulation was much less than predicted, I felt no gratitude. I had no thoughts of gratitude for the warm house I live in, the delicious food on our table, my husband’s effort to clear the snow from our driveway and sidewalk. I was stuck in my whining.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in. — Leonard Cohen
What can you do when you face the full catastrophe of life? How can you let go of what you wanted to accept what is? How do you find peace, acceptance, and gratitude?
Look for the Cracks and Where the Light Shines Through
Practice radical compassion towards yourself and everyone.
Let yourself feel your feelings. Allow yourself to grieve. Allow yourself to feel angry. Allow yourself to feel scared and sad. At the same time look for a sliver of beauty somewhere, a kind word, a purring cat, the unconditional love of your dog, a hug from a loved one.
Slow your breath. Breathe in consciously, noticing what you feel in your body. Breathe out allowing everything to be as it is. Try breathing with the mantra “Breathe in peace. Breathe out love.”
Move your body. Put on some music you like and dance. Do yoga or tai chi.
Accept the cracks in life, in yourself, in your loved ones. IT IS HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN!
When our oldest daughter was 4 she developed a liver disease that doctors were unable to diagnose. I suffered with her suffering and feared for her life. It was one of the most difficult times in my life, a kind of adversity I had no training for and did not handle with grace. But even through the suffering there were such luminous moments of wonder and beauty. A smile, a gesture, a giggle—when I focused on the moment it became possible to find the courage to meet the next moment and the next. It took years, but we were incredibly blessed because her liver eventually healed.
Life is beautiful and terrible. Noticing the beauty helps you develop the resilience to thrive despite the full catastrophe.
May you walk in beauty.
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